


Ballad of the White Wolf

by bitterjelly



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bathing/Washing, Bilingual Character(s), Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Camping, Country & Western Music, Cowboy Geralt, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Gun Violence, Guns, Horseback Riding, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Scars, Sleeping Together, Songfic, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterjelly/pseuds/bitterjelly
Summary: "Hola,guapo."Geralt heard the familiar voice behind him and swung round, keeping one hand on Roach's neck where he was adjusting her halter."Hell, I knew this job was gonna be trouble." Geralt broke into a wide smile as his eyes rested on Junquillo. The little vaquero was wearing a bright red shirt, embroidered with pink roses, and a faded blue bandana tied around his neck. He had on a showy pair of cowhide chaps and shiny black boots. Geralt's eyes swept back up to the smiling face of his old friend. A soft lock of black hair fell into his dark brown eyes and he swept it away with one calloused hand."I know you missed me, you oldborracho."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 49





	1. Sweet Dreams of You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! This fic will be updated regularly. Comments, including concrit, are welcome. 
> 
> I have decided to call Jaskier/Dandelion Junquillo (pronounced hoon-key-yo) in this fic. Since Jaskier is Polish for buttercup, the English translators must have wanted to preserve the association of his name to a cute yellow flower. In this fic, Jaskier is Mexican, so I have decided to call him after daffodils in Spanish. Hopefully keeping the J will alleviate confusion. 
> 
> Setting is west Texas in approximately 1880's, but many of the songs are from the 1950's.
> 
> Please see end notes for Spanish translations. I apologize in advance for any errors in my Spanish, please feel free to correct me.

"Hola, _guapo._ "

Geralt heard the familiar voice behind him and swung round, keeping one hand on Roach's neck where he was adjusting her halter.

"Hell, I knew this job was gonna be trouble." Geralt broke into a wide smile as his eyes rested on Junquillo. The little _vaquero_ was wearing a bright red shirt embroidered with pink roses, and a faded blue bandana tied around his neck. He had on a showy pair of cowhide chaps and shiny black boots. Geralt's eyes swept back up to the smiling face of his old friend. A soft lock of black hair fell into his dark brown eyes and he swept it away with one calloused hand.

"I know you missed me, you old _borracho._ "

"Hmm.." Geralt smirked out of the corner of his mouth as he continued to eye the other man, his black Stetson tipped back on his head. "You signed up for this here pleasure cruise?" 

" _Si, pero_ I haven't talked with the _Señora_ yet. I met up with Roche in town last night and he said I should come down if I was looking for work. So... _aqui estoy!_ " He smiled sunnily and spread his arms, accidentally whacking his knuckles against the neck of the guitar slung across his back. It twanged with a hollow jangle as the morning light caught Geralt's hazel eyes, making them glow gold.

"You better get in there, Yenna won't truck no delays. She's all agitated about somethin', this mornin'." Geralt growled, turning back to Roach and adjusting her tack.

Junquillo, rolling his eyes, led his pinto mare to the hitching post in front of the Vengerburg Cattle Company building, its facade an intimidating spectacle of black paint and leaded glass.

The dusty floorboards creaked under his boots and Junquillo blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light. White glass gas lamps flickered at the orderly desks. Standing at one, leaning over it in a way best described as "leering," was Vernon Roche, leader of their little posse of cattle drivers.

"Come on now, Carmen. Just one little dance? After this job I'll be able to take you to the fanciest hall up in town and treat you right."

"I'm a Christian woman, Mr. Roche." Carmen's fingers played with the lace around her neck as she grinned.

"Well, then, God damn it woman, I'll take you to church!" Roche whisked off his soft leather hat and dashed it against the side of the desk, for emphasis.

"Roche." Junquillo tucked his thumbs behind his belt. "Surprised to see you on your feet, after last night."

Roche's head jerked back, torn from his pleading glances down Carmen's blouse.

"Hell, 'Quillo, it'd take more than some bad liquor to keep me down." He straightened, tugging his vest down. "You decide to take me up on my offer?"

"Well, I couldn't let two tenderfoots like you and Geralt get lost in the desert by yourselves. At least, not without a little music." Junquillo flashed his best smile, crinkling his dark eyes.

Roche stepped forward and clapped Junquillo on the back, "Well, it's into the dragon's den we go, then, _amigo_." Roche steered him to the back office, where, through the leaded glass panes, Junquillo could see the eponymous lady scratching away angrily at an enormous ledger-book.

"After you." Junquillo offered. Roche swung the door open after tapping gently with his knuckles.

"What else in the world could you want, Vernon?" Yennefer Vengerburg looked up from her work, beautiful and cruel as a statue. 

She wore a black silk jacket over a crisp white shirt with shiny black buttons that ran all the way up to a high lace collar, which was adorned with a cameo brooch. When she stood, the profuse ruffles of her bustled skirt made a shushing noise and her gleaming black leather boots clicked against the floorboards. Her face was pale and her eyes were blue, an inheritance from her German father, as was the merchantile empire. But her hair, partly pinned back with a silver comb, was long, silky-straight and pure black, an inheritance from her Kickapoo mother.

"Junquillo. I suppose you're signing on." Yennefer bent over the desk and quickly scribbled a cheque. She ripped it out and handed it to the vaquero with a flourish. "I'll see you again in four months. Focus on my cattle, not your guitar." She rearranged her skirts and sat back down at the massive desk. "Now get out of my office."

Back out in the blazing _Tejano_ sun, Geralt was leaning back in his saddle, letting Roach shift her weight from hoof to hoof. Beside him a severe-looking woman on a black gelding gnawed on a piece of jerky.

"Oi! You focken' Mary bastard, get over 'ere!" A short, stocky, bearded Irishman clambered off a covered chuck wagon pulled by a fat pony and opened his arms wide.

"Zoltan!" Junquillo dashed down the steps and into Zoltan's arms, giving his bald head a pat. "How have you been _mi amigo_? Making _todos los vaqueros_ fat out here?"

"No, no, just meself." Zoltan pat his thick belly with a grin.

"Enough tender reunions" The woman on the black horse interjected, "let's git!" She crushed her tan hat against her man-short blond hair and kicked her horse with a hearty, "Hya!"

"We all ready, gentlemen?" Vernon Roche looked around at Geralt, Junquillo, and Zoltan. The sun was getting higher in the sky. Far away, a hawk screamed.

"Let's get this show on the road." Junquillo grasped the pommel of his saddle and swung easily up onto the pinto. He pulled his guitar around from his back and strummed a cheery chord.

" _Sweet dreams of you_  
_Every night, I go through_  
_Why can't I forget you, and start my life anew_  
_Instead of having sweet dreams about you?_  
_You don't love me, it's plain_  
_I should know I'll never wear your ring_  
_I should hate you, the whole night through_  
_Instead of having sweet dreams about you_  
_Sweet dreams of **yooouuu**_ "

Junquillo warbled out a melody, his weary nag guided by his knees. With a gruff grunt, Geralt spurred on Roach. Zoltan slapped the reins against his pony's back and the chuck wagon rattled and creaked to a start. Roche jumped up onto a bay gelding and spurred it on, racing after the woman with a shout of, "Ves! Get back here, woman!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guapo - cutie  
> borracho - drunk  
> vaquero - cowboy  
> aqui estoy - I'm here  
> Tejano - Texan  
> todos los vaqueros - all the cowboys  
> mi amigo - my friend  
> Song lyrics from Patsy Cline's _'Sweet Dreams of You'_


	2. Para Siempre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: drunken rage induced property damage

Geralt wiped his brow with a faded bandana, sweat mixing with the dust from the trail. Nearby, cattle lowed and grunted, their red backs illuminated by the fading orange light that was slowly slipping down to the flat horizon. Over a weak campfire, Zoltan was cooking beans and fresh tortillas, his shirtsleeves rolled up over burly arms.

Geralt pulled up a crate and sat down by the fire with a groan, knees and hips creaking. He pulled a piece of willow bark out of the pocket of his shirt and began to chew it contemplatively.

"You look beat, _abuelo_." Junquillo plopped down on the dusty ground beside Geralt and pulled his guitar off his back, giving it a quick strum before he set to tuning it.

"That's because I was actually working, not chewing the fat with Zoltan all day." Geralt smirked and ground the heel of his hand into his thigh, rubbing out a muscle cramp.

Junquillo, ignoring this comment entirely, strummed out a chord and began to sing,

_"Olvidemos el pasado  
Y lo que diga la gente  
Lo que importa es que te amo  
Y me amas, para siempre  
Olvidemos el pasado  
Y vivamos el presente  
Lo que importa es que me amas  
Y te amo, para siempre"_

As the clear bell of his tenor voice faded away into the buzzing, rustling sound of the desert, Roche and Ves cantered up to camp.

"Is that grub ready, Zoltan? I'm starved." Ves patted her belly for emphasis and pulled out her hip flask. 

"Finest prairie gourmet fer ye, ma'am." Zoltan handed her a tin plate heaped high with beans, salt pork, and tortillas.

The group ate in silence for a while, as the glorious outpouring of the Milky Way brightened above them. Zoltan handed out small green apples, and topped everyone's tin mug off with a splash of gin.

Roche stood with a contented sigh. "Mighty fine cookin', as always, Mr. Chivay. I reckon we better split up tonight. There's wolves and rustlers aplenty in these parts. Me 'n' Ves'll take the south flank of the herd. Zoltan, you stay here with the wagon. Geralt and Junquillo, why don't you ride up to the north side and keep lookout. We'll ride out bright 'n' early on the morrow." He looked around and took in everyone's nods of approval. 

They made their good nights and carefully walked their horses through the gathering gloom, following the undulating perimiter of the herd. When the light of Zoltan's campfire receded to a tiny spark, Geralt stopped, untying his bedroll from his saddlebags. Junquillo, uncharacteristically quiet, did the same. 

They unsaddled and hobbled their horses in tense silence. Geralt rolled out his bedroll, unholstering his pistol and tucking it under the thick wool. The silver filigree shone in the moonlight, polished to a high shine. As he kicked off his boots, he noticed Junquillo pushing back his hair again. 

"Yer hair's longer." He commented brusquely. 

" _Si, lo se_. I meant to visit the barber in town, but then I ran into Vernon and, well, my plans all went to the devil." He let out an amused chuckle, remembering. He let the cowhide chaps slip over his narrow hips and untied his kerchief, revealing a long expanse of throat leading down to his smooth chest. 

"I could cut it." Geralt choked out, swallowing thickly. He rummaged through his saddlebags and produced a small pair of shears.

Junquillo's eyes widened, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair again. "Sure! I was afraid it was going to be as long as yours by the time we got to Fort Worth." He glanced up at Geralt's long, prematurely grey hair, which was half tied back with a leather cord.

Shoulders stiff, Geralt sat down on a smooth boulder a few paces away from their bedrolls. "Here." He held the scissors out expectantly, face a practiced neutral.

Junquillo settled between Geralt's legs on the cooling ground and felt the older man's thighs gently rest against his arms. The body he had once been so intimately familiar with now seemed strange and foreign. Still, he didn't pull away. He relaxed into the touch as Geralt's rough hands tentatively ran through his soft brown locks. 

Geralt worked slowly, running his fingers through Junquillo's hair and snipping away with the scissors. Scratchy brown clippings drifted away on the chilly breeze. Drifting into the pregnant silence came the squeals of coyotes and the soft stamping of the cattle.

"I'm sorry. For El Paso." Geralt spoke softly into the silence, his voice deep with emotion.

Junquillo turned to look at him, brow furrowed. Eyes cast down, he whispered, "Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly?" He placed a hand on Geralt's knee. "But you do owe me ten dollars. I had to pay off the owner of that saloon."

"Damn, 'Quillo." Geralt covered his eyes with his hand. "I ain't never intended it to go that way. I'll surely pay you back when this job is over."

" _Por qué_ you were screaming at Eli? You scared me half to death when you broke that window. And then you just... _desapareciste_." 

Geralt set down his scissors and looked deep into the other man's eyes. " _Lo siento, Junquillo. Lo siento mucho. Estaba... celoso_." He reached out to touch Junquillo's cheek. "I hated to see you with him, Junquillo. I hated it like poison." 

Junquillo reached up to touch Geralt's hand on his cheek. " _Tu hijo de perra._ I missed you, _cabrón_." Junquillo raised up on his knees and slipped his hand around the back of Geralt's neck, bringing him in for a slow, tender kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any confusion resulting from the title change. 
> 
> I don't know anything about cattle driving obviously.
> 
> Song lyrics from 'Para Siempre' by Vincente Fernandez  
> "Let's forget the past  
> and what the people say  
> What's important is that I love you  
> And you love me, forever  
> Let's forget the past  
> And let's live in the present  
> What's important is that you love me  
> And I love you, forever"
> 
> Poem quote "Why lov'st thou..." From Shakespeare's Sonnet #8
> 
> Spanish translations:  
> abuelo - grandpa  
> si lo se - yeah i know  
> porque - why  
> desapareciste - disappeared  
> lo siento (mucho) - i'm (so) sorry  
> estaba celoso - i was jealous  
> tu hijo de perra - you son of a bitch  
> cabron - asshole
> 
> Eli is Elihal the crossdressing elf from the Witcher 3 quest 'Broken Flowers.' Hooray for canonically bisexual Dandelion!


	3. Cuando Me Encontré Contigo

Junquillo awoke with a start on an empty bedroll, chilly in the weak morning light. His smooth brow furrowed with worry - where had Geralt gone off to? He wasn't usually such an early riser. With a stretch and a yawn, Junquillo pulled his boots on and stumbled to his feet.

A group of cows was moaning and kicking, anxiously milling along the edge of a nearby gully. The rocky crevasse was deep, probably a seasonal creek dried up in the summer sun. Taking a wide berth around the angry heifers, Junquillo approached the gully and saw Geralt's black hat bobbing among the rocks.

"Geralt!" Junquillo shouted, sprinting forward, "What are you doing, _querido_?" As the deep streambed came into view, Junquillo could see Geralt, struggling to keep his balance on the smooth stones, reaching out toward a trembling calf. It was desperate to flee, but there was nowhere to go. Junquillo could see that if it moved it would merely slide deeper into the pit, hurting itself more. 

"Junquillo!" Geralt barked, "Dammit, get a rope!" His feet were placed precariously, arms reaching out to the skittish calf. The cows on the ridge bellowed in response to the calf's pathetic groaning.

Startled, Junquillo turned on his heel and bounded back to the bedrolls. The horses were standing nearby, looking mistrustfully at the cows. A long coil of hemp rope sat atop the saddlebags, next to the rock Geralt was sitting on when he cut Junquillo's hair last night. When Junquillo kissed him. When Junquillo, made completely irrational by those hands cupping his chin, that grey stubble rasping his cheek, those lips on his, forgave Geralt every petty jealosy, all his drunken mistakes.

Junquillo shook himself out of the daydream and grabbed the rope, jogging back to the gully. Wrapping one end tightly around his wrist and grasping it in one gloved hand, he threw the coil to Geralt, who caught it expertly. 

"Thanks, _'Quillo_. Now jus' hold on." Geralt tied one end tightly around his waist. He crouched down on his hands and knees and crawled toward the calf. Junquillo pulled a bit of the slack up to help him. Soon Geralt's broad shoulders were pressing against the calf's flanks, and he slowly brought his head up between the calf's legs. Bringing his arms up to grip the bucking legs, he gingerly stood, the calf over his shoulders.

"I've got you, Geralt! Come on up! Easy now!" Junquillo pulled the slack slowly up as Geralt shakily climbed up the gully, dragged forward by the rope.

When he reached the edge he placed his hands on the ground, slowly letting go of the calf. It furiously kicked with a burst of pent-up axiety, awkwardly bouncing off the rope and catching Geralt with a good kick in the arm. "Ack... sum'bitch," he grunted as it sprinted over toward its mother, who licked it testingly. 

"You ok, good shepherd? You got your little lost sheep!" Junquillo patted him jovially on the arm. 

"OW, dammit." Geralt winced, "Cursed beeves." He shot a glance at the calf, now slamming its head against its obliging mother's udder. Dandelion could see his secret smile.

"Let's go get some coffee, eh?" Junquillo carressed Geralt's arm and nuzzled up to his neck, kissing him in that warm crook between clavicle and adam's apple. Geralt hummed with contentment, closing his eyes.

Junquillo retrieved his guitar from his pack and strummed a dramatic chord as Geralt packed their bedrolls and saddled their horses. Leaning against the boulder, looking up at the endless azure dome he sang, 

_"Yo andaba buscando la muerte  
cuando me encontré contigo  
yo andaba buscando la muerte  
cuando me encontré contigo."_

\----

"Good mornin' to ye!" Zoltan shouted, waving a wooden spoon as they trotted up to the chuck wagon. Ves and Vernon already sat huddled near the fire, holding on to their tin mugs of coffee for dear life.

" _Buenos días_ , Zoltan!" Junquillo chirped, "Let me tell you the tale of Geralt's daring rescue!"

"Junquillo, shut yer trap. T'warn't nothing but a damn calf in a gully." Geralt groaned.

"I'm afraid we have something more serious to discuss, gentlemen." Vernon Roche interrupted, eyes hidden under the brim of his hat. "We've got some dead cattle on our hands. Lookin' like wolves."

"Yep." Ves added, spitting a brown sizzle into the fire.

"Wolves!" Junquillo huddled up to Zoltan, grasping his burly arm. "So far from the plateau?"

"There, there, lad," Zoltan patted Junquillo's hand, "I'm sure it don't signify."

"It signifies that we're down three head o' cattle!" Roche stomped his foot in frustration.

"Should've heard 'em, Vernon." Geralt hung his head, sneaking a furtive glance at Junquillo, who was sucking on a piece of rock candy from Zoltan's stash. "Reckon I was dragged out last night."

"Well you better wake up! The hell are we doin' out here? Feeding the dogs?" His expression softened. "Jus' keep yer eyes peeled, _comprende_?"

Geralt nodded and began shoveling his beans and eggs into his mouth, pausing only for loud slurps of coffee.

After a solemn breakfast, after Zoltan gathered up the tin plates and washed them in a bucket, after Ves enjoyed a long smoke, and Junquillo braided the pony's mane, the group headed off into the rising heat.

Junquillo tapped out a rhythm on his guitar, and sang,

_"I wanna be a cowboy's sweetheart  
I wanna learn to rope and ride  
I wanna ride through the plains and the desert  
Out west of the Great Divide  
I wanna hear the coyotes sing  
As the sun sets in the west  
I wanna be a cowboy's sweetheart  
That's the life I love the best  
I wanna lay my head beneath the open sky  
As the sun sets in the west  
I wanna strum my guitar and yodel-le-hee  
That's the life I love the best."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La Ixhuateca translation  
> I was wandering about looking for death  
> when I found myself with you  
> I was wandering about looking for death  
> when I found myself with you
> 
> "I Want To Be A Cowboy's Sweetheart" by Patsy Montana
> 
> t'warn't - lol sorry not sorry!!  
> beeves - cattle  
> dragged out - exhausted
> 
> querido - darling  
> comprende - understand


	4. Sabor a Mi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory bathtime = smut

The sun was hot and high, and the Indian Paintbrush were blooming. The cowboys zigzagged around the herd, urging them on across the plain. The sound of thundering hooves was punctuated with shouts of "Get on!" and "YA!" The white and red spotted longhorns begrudgingly flowed over the _llano estacado_ , bellowing and churning, their dirty flanks dusted with the trail. Extra encouragement forced the cattle across a shallow, rocky river. Their hooves kicked up splashes of clear water, whipping up mud and froth that streaked across their heavy bodies.

Once the last stragglers were driven across the water, a high piercing whistle from behind him made Junquillo's head whip around. His paint mare slowed and pranced to the side as he turned.

Geralt trotted up behind him, lowering his fingers from his mouth. He jerked his head, indicating a point upstream. His eyes narrowed in the withering light. Junquillo understood. He pulled his horse's head, clicking softly with his tongue. His eyes darted up to Roche and Ves, now far ahead of them at the middle of the herd, with Zoltan close behind.

Slipping away unnoticed, Geralt and Junquillo rode upstream, where the river bubbled over smooth rocks and sparkled in the sunlight.

"Fancy a quick dip?" Geralt tipped his hat back on his head as he slowed to a stop at the stream bank. Roach bent her head and drank tentatively, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

" _¡A huevo!_ " Junquillo whipped off his soft felt hat and fanned himself. "I'm hot as Hades after that ride."

Geralt slipped gracefully off Roach, his dusty boots meeting the rocky ground. He walked over to Junquillo's horse and held up his hands, smiling softly.

Jumping off his horse into Geralt's strong hands, Junquillo murmured, 

"Though the ocean roar around me,  
Yet it still shall bear me on;  
Though a desert should surround me,  
It hath springs that may be won."

"What are you goin' on about, now, darlin'?" Geralt pulled Junquillo into his arms, burying his face in the damp skin of his neck.

Junquillo answered by throwing his arms around Geralt's neck, rising up onto his toes to meet his lips in a kiss. Roach chuffed and leaned her flank against Geralt's back, pushing the couple closer together. 

Breaking away, Geralt cast his Stetson down on the rocks and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a pale chest splattered with scars. A bubbling lump of pale scar on his belly mapped a youth spent in the rodeo. He had almost died after getting gored by that bull, a nineteen year old idiot writhing on the surgeon's table. There were still shotgun pellets embedded in his left bicep and pectoral from when he and his old comrades from Saint Francis' Home for Children, Eskel and Lambert, had held up a Confederate supply train. There was the slash across his shoulder and clavicle from breaking up a knife fight at a saloon in El Paso. The dotted elipses of barbed wire down his arms. An impressive slash from the hoof an unbroken stallion on his thigh. Junquillo barely noted the familiar sight as he hopped on one leg, pulling off his boots, then his pants. 

Naked, the pair picked their way across the rocks into the river. Deeper here than where the cattle crossed, the cool water rose up to their chests and pressed against them with a strong, slow current. Junquillo slipped, and Geralt grasped his hand, steadying him, pale white skin on warm brown. 

Junquillo flopped down into the cool water, spreading his arms and legs to float on the surface. He drifted a few feet down the current before he felt a grip on his ankle, dragging him down.

With a squawk he was pulled under the water, into the quiet, rushing, green underworld. Geralt's arms encircled Junquillo's waist. Their legs tangled together, feet just brushing the smooth rocks of the river bottom. They broke the surface with a cold spray. Geralt's long hair clung to his neck and dripped in Junquillo's face. With tender fingers, Junquillo brushed it back.

"Oh! _¡espere!_ " Junquillo disentangled himself and flailed toward the bank. Geralt lowered himself into the cool water and watched Junquillo's little bum like a crocodile.

"Found it!" Junquillo held up a little yellow bar of tallow soap and hopped back into the stream. He immediately set to scrubbing it into his short brown hair until he was covered in a halo of bubbles. Geralt ducked his head to recieve the same treatment, shaking the water out of his eyes like a dog.

" _Mi chico limpio_ " Junquillo hummed as he scrubbed Geralt with the pine-scented soap.

" _Tuyo..._ " Geralt growled, running his hands over Junquillo's slick body, squeezing his pecs, his bum, his hips. A hot flush rose in Junquillo's face when Geralt pressed his hardness against him, deep voice vibrating in his chest. " _Mío_ "

Junquillo melted into his arms, bouyed up by the chill current and Geralt's lean muscles.

" _Geralt_ " Junquillo ground his hips against Geralt's, the strong push of the current at his back. His fingers dug into the little bar of soap, leaving half-moon indentations under his nails. With his other hand he cupped the back of Geralt's neck, tilting his head up, neck bared.

Geralt licked his glistening skin, filthy and pure. He sucked on the tender skin, hands submerged under the water, grasping, pulling, crushing their bodies together. One broad palm caressed down Junquillo's back, rough fingers dipping inside, pressing into that soft pucker of flesh. 

Junquillo moaned, sighing into the overwhelmingly blue sky, brown eyes reflecting blue. 

Geralt dragged them closer to the shore, steps slow in the water. A lizard, its small blue tongue darting out to gather up droplets of water off the rocks, skittered under the roots of a desert willow. Junquillo, gently lowered to the slippery stones, crawled backwards, drawing Geralt's heaving chest up to his, parting his long legs. The water dripped down, making swirling patterns in the dark hair on his thighs and calves. 

Their kisses, sloppy and punctuated by harsh breaths, deepened; desperate. Junquillo reached down a soap-slick hand and wrapped it around both their cocks, pumping furiously out of time. His breathless gasps were swallowed up by the dry west wind. 

"Wait, 'Quillo." Geralt groaned, rising up on his knees on the stones. Junquillo followed the line of grey hair down his taut belly to his pink flushed length, his trembling strong thighs. Geralt took the bar of soap from Junquillo's vice-grip, rubbing it furiously between his hands for a few seconds before throwing it back onto the dry rocks. With one soap-slick hand he reached between Junquillo's legs and pressed a finger, testingly. 

" _Unnhh... hostia puta_ ," Junquillo moaned. His legs fell open and one hand grasped the base of his curving cock, the other pressed into his chest.

Geralt bent down reverently to lick the purple-pink tip of Junquillo's cock, eliciting breathy gasps as he slowly pushed in another finger. Slowly he opened him, until his eyes were rolling back in his head and his body was limp and burning.

Slicking himself with a soapy hand, he pressed the blunt tip of his cock to Junquillo's hole.

" _¿Listo, cariño?_ " He whispered, meeting Junquillo's coffee-colored eyes.

"Fuck me, Geralt." Junquillo commanded, wriggling his toes in the cool water in anticipation. The smile that spread across his face quickly melted into a silent shout as Geralt pressed in. Everything was hot and slick and tight and hard as they melted into each other. Geralt's muscular thighs tensed and trembled, his broad shoulders flexed as he held himself up on the river rocks. 

Junquillo pulled his knees up to his chest, pulling Geralt in deeper. The older man groaned and clenched his eyes shut, pumping slowly into Junquillo's tightness. His hair fell around his face in a curtain, shaking off sparkling droplets of water as he moved.

Dropping down to rest his weight on his forearms, Geralt huffed hot breath into Junquillo's neck. His belly pressed against his cock, the steady pounding rhythm of his hips knocking his head against the wet stones.

"Ahh, _mierda_ , Geralt... Ah!" He clawed at Geralt's back, arching up into the sensation. He could feel it pooling in his toes, flowing up through his thighs, cascading down his spine.

The rhythm turned harsh and stuttering. Geralt breathed out, "Ah, ah, ah," and the sound was unbearably tender in Junquillo's ear. Slamming into him, every muscle in his body tensed, he came with a surprised shout. Junquillo reached down between their wet bodies and came in a full body shiver, shooting onto his chest. They stayed that way, panting, for a moment or two, before Geralt sprawled out onto the riverbank beside Junquillo. 

A pair of sparrows fluttered across the sky above them. The horses whisked their tails and nibbled at the scarce grass. Far away, a buffalo bellowed.

Geralt closed his eyes, feeling a rare contentment wash over him. The river lapped and burbled over his legs. 

Junquillo cupped a handful of water and splashed it over his chest, washing away the stickiness. He sat back on the riverbank, propped up on his arms, shifting his bottom to avoid any sharp stones, and sighed. Geralt's hands were crossed on his chest and his face was relaxed. Breathing in the gathering dusk, Junquillo sang,

" _Tanto tiempo disfrutamos de este amor  
nuestras almas se acercaron tanto así  
que yo guardo tu sabor  
pero tu llevas tambien sabor a mi_"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Though the ocean roar..." from George Gordon Byron 'To Thomas Moore'
> 
> Álvaro Carillo 'Sabor a Mi'  
> We enjoyed this love for so long  
> And our souls got so close that now  
> I carry your flavor  
> But you also carry mine
> 
> llano estacado - literally staked land, aka west Texas/New Mexico  
> a huevo - fuck ya  
> espere - wait  
> mi chico limpio - my clean boy  
> tuyo - yours  
> mio - mine  
> hostia puta - holy shit  
> Listo, cariño - ready baby?  
> mierda - shit
> 
> St Francis of Assisi is sometimes represented by a wolf


	5. Imagen del Misterio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter. COVID-19 quarantine hit me with a pretty bad depressive episode.

"You could have just told me. You could have just told me to stop seeing Eli." Junquillo sat cross-legged by the fire, wrapped in a colorful woven blanket. He dabbed his tongue gently against the joint he was rolling to seal it. 

Geralt was silent for a long minute, taking a long pull from his bottle of whiskey. He and Roach were leaning against one another, Roach waiting for him to continue brushing her, Geralt looking luminous and lost in the moonlight. 

"Ain't got no right." Another swig of liquor, followed by a grimace.

The hiss of a lit match broke the tension. Junquillo puffed on the _mota_ to light it, exhaling a sloppy smoke ring. 

" _No tenías derecho a_... fucking... throw a bottle through the saloon window, either." Junquillo coughed and held the joint up for Geralt to take. " _además_... You didn't have to trouble yourself over Eli. You were up in the _Señora's_ house anyways." Junquillo's voice dripped with contempt.

Geralt sat next to Junquillo, dropping the curry comb (to the consternation of Roach, who bobbed and shook her head) and pinched the joint between his thumb and finger. He took a thoughtful puff, holding it in his mouth for a moment.

"Reckon' I was devilish mauled." Geralt coughed dryly and took another swig of whiskey. "Yenna done throwed my ass out. For good this time."

" _Maldito tonto_. Take it out on her, then!" Junquillo took out a piece of waxed canvas, unfolding it to reveal several pieces of Zoltan's rock candy. "You want some of this?" He popped one into his mouth and took back the joint. 

"Thanks, darlin'..." Geralt took a piece of dark brown candy, watching it glisten in the moonlight for a moment.

A long silence passed. The insects chirped, the fire crackled, and an owl hooted out its mournful wail. Taking a long toke, Junquillo wistfully recited;

_"Y yo, mínimo ser,  
ebrio del gran vacío  
constelado,  
a semejanza, a imagen  
del misterio,  
me sentí parte pura  
del abismo,  
rodé con las estrellas,  
mi corazón se desató en el viento."_

Geralt flicked the butt of the joint into the fire and flopped back onto his bedroll, looking up at the heavenly multitude. 

Close by, too close, the high moan of wolf song pierced the night.

_"Awooooo!"_

The echo of " _oooooo_ " trailed off into the black night. Geralt stood up rigidly straight, listening, body tensed. 

" 'Quillo, saddle up." In one fluid movement, Geralt bent to grasp his saddle blanket and saddle and threw them onto Roach's back. He reached under her powerful chest and secured the buckle. Behind him, Junquillo scrambled to kick sand over the fire and saddle his pinto mare. 

Dangling under a flap of buckskin on the side of his saddle hung Geralt's rifle. The click as he loaded it startled Junquillo, who startled his horse. It pranced sideways as he tried to jump up, leaving him with one foot in the stirrup and hopping on one leg. 

"Hey now, Roach. Whoa, girl." Powerful legs tensing, he swung into the saddle and rested the butt of his rifle on his thigh. The cold iron glinted in the moonlight, long barrel pointed at the sky. Geralt walked Roach in a circle around the campsite, squinting his sharp eyes against the dark, encircling Junquillo as he scrambled to pack up and saddle his horse.

As soon as Junquillo had a shaky hold of the reins, Geralt kicked Roach with a "Hya!" and headed out into the darkness. 

The herd was restless, pressing together anxiously into a roiling ball. Suddenly a high bellow pierced the night, punctuated by the pounding of hooves on the plain. Geralt turned Roach's head and followed the sound, readying his rifle. He could hear Junquillo's pinto lagging behind him, and the thin, nervous voice of his friend. 

"Geralt! Slow down! Its so dark!"

Geralt pulled up Roach's head, suddenly spotting in the dim starlight the glint of a white coat. A huge wolf, gleaming in the darkness, was weaving around the cattle, followed by three dark companions.

The cowboy lowered his rifle, pressing the stock against his shoulder and squinting down the barrel. A shot cracked open the night. A puff of soil inches away from the feet of the pale wolf caused her to jump in the air, yipping in terror at her sisters. Roach flattened her ears against her head and bounced on her front hooves.

"What was that?" Junquillo whispered loudly. "Did you shoot a wolf?? Geralt, what do you see?"

"Just scared 'em." Geralt lowered his gun, patting Roach's neck to calm her. "Devilish big sum'bitch."

"Scared them? What if they come back? Poor ol' beeves." Junquillo glanced out over the riled up herd.

"We'll be here. Don't you worry none." Geralt spit to demonstrate his nonchalance. 

Sensing his friend was not entirely calmed, he suggested, "Maybe you can soothe them savage beasts with music."

Junquillo's face brightened. "Say no more." He reached over and fumbled with the haphazardly attached guitar on his saddlebags. With a soft squeeze of his knees urging his horse on, he slowly approached the cattle, quietly tuning the instrument. Softly, tenderly, he sang, 

"Sing me a song of sadness,  
And sing it as blue as I feel,  
If a tear should appear it's because he's not here,  
Sing a sad song and sing it for me.  
Sing it sweet and sing it low,  
And then I'll have to go sing a sad song,  
And sing it for meee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> devilish mauled - fucking wasted
> 
> mota - weed  
> no tenias derecho a - you don't have the right to  
> ademas - anyways  
> maldito tonto - tough shit
> 
> Pablo Neruda 'Poesia' translation:  
> And I, infinitesimal being,  
> drunk with the great starry  
> void,  
> likeness, image of  
> mystery,  
> I felt myself a pure part  
> of the abyss,  
> I wheeled with the stars,  
> my heart broke loose on the wind.
> 
> Sing a Sad Song - Merle Haggard


	6. Un Beso Tuyo

Junquillo woke up with Geralt curled around him, warm breath on his neck, rough hand resting on his chest. The nighttime chill of the desert was rapidly dispersing in the growing light. A shiny beetle was picking its way across the edge of the bedroll. Junquillo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold on to the last remnants of sleep. 

Behind him, Geralt shifted. With a groan, he squeezed Junquillo tight and then sat up, rubbing his beard. 

"Come back to bed, my darling. We shall have the maid deliver us breakfast." Junquillo propped his arms behind his head and yawned.

"Ha. Git on." Geralt creaked to his feet and stretched his arms in the air. "We best tell Vernon 'bout this mess."

\----

"Well? Did you shoot the cussed things??" Vernon shouted across the prairie as the cowboys approached the chuck wagon.

"Missed 'em." Geralt replied curtly from under the brim of his hat.

"Missed 'em?! What kind of no count sharpshooter..." Roche shot to his feet, red-faced, clenching his hat in his hand.

Zoltan stepped in quickly with the coffee pot and refilled Roche's cup. "Ye can fight after ye eat, Vernon. 'Tis mighty early for such a shindy."

Roche sat back down with a sigh and took a gulp of his coffee.

"Me 'n' 'Quillo'll ride up the plateau. Reckon I can track them dogs." Geralt, taking a cup of coffee from Zoltan, offered in conciliation.

"I can't afford to lose more'n a couple days, here, Geralt. You better show me why Yenna puts so much stock in you. Hell, any clodhopper can miss a target."

"It ain't that kind of gunplay Yenna keeps 'im around fer." Ves smirked into her breakfast. Junquillo let out an involuntary snort. The blood rose in Geralt's stony face.

"Hunh." The grey-haired cowboy grunted with repressed rage and began shoveling eggs into his mouth.

With his mouth still full, he began loading Roach up with dry tack and apples from the chuck wagon. He jerked his head at Junquillo, who gingerly rolled the rest of his breafast into a thick sope and hopped on his pinto mare.

_¡Hasta luego!_ " Junquillo called out to the group, waving his sope. "The wolf slayers ride!"

\---

By the time the sun was high in the sky, Roach's flanks were flecked with sweat and Geralt's long hair was plastered to his neck. Slowing to a stop near some twisted Pinyon pine trees, Geralt swung down off his horse and wiped his brow with his sleeve.

"Stopping already?" Junquillo panted, looking almost as beat as the pinto mare.

"Hn." Geralt grunted, pouring water into a tin pan for the horses.

Junquillo slumped to the ground in the dappled shade of the trees and took out a small green apple from his shirt pocket. "Well?" He took a crunchy bite, "Have you seen any wolf tracks?"

Geralt had his back turned to the other man, carefully pulling a burr from Roach's mane. "Somethin' pushin' 'em down the plateau." He fished a flask out of his saddlebag and took a swig, squinting into the distance.

_"¿Como que?"_ Junquillo awkwardly pulled off his boot and shook out the stones.

"Can't say. But somethin's different. I done made this run with Roche a dozen times now, but we ain't never lost more'n a couple head b'fore." Roach made a high whinny and jerked her head as Geralt pulled the burr free.

"Such mystery." Junquillo laughed, "Admit it, you just wanted to get away from Roche and Ves for a few days."

Geralt clenched his jaw, then took another drink from his flask. "Ready to head out?"

_"Cierto..."_ Junquillo stood and dusted himself off. _"Querido_... Ves didn't mean any harm. Neither did I."

"I..." Geralt's pointing finger shot up, accusing. He stopped himself with a sudden air of dejection. "S'pose I deserve it." He tightened Roach's saddle absentmindedly. "Yen expects me to be some kind of kept man. Dressin' up, goin' to society balls..."

"Being faithful?" Junquillo added acerbicly. 

Geralt deflated, running a hand across his eyes. "I know I'm a bastard. Don't need no one else telling me that blessed truth."

"Oh, hell, Geralt. I'm the last one who should complain about your sins." Junquillo gingerly touched the cowboy's arm. "Let's go solve our mystery."

As the day fell into dusk, the pair picked their way up the switchback donkey trails leading to a high, grassy plateau. The temperature dropped and the grass grew thicker. As the last bit of light was fading, they made a fireless camp overlooking the vast rocky vista. Geralt washed his cornbread down with whiskey, and Junquillo strummed a few meandering chords. Tipping his hat over his eyes, Geralt lay down and was soon snoring softly. Junquillo, watching a meteorite fall and fizzle out, whispered,

_"Por encontrar un beso tuyo,  
¿qué daría yo?  
¡Un beso errante de tu boca  
muerta para el amor!  
(Tierra de sombra  
come mi boca.)"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hasta luego - see you later  
> como que - like what  
> cierto - sure  
> querido - darling
> 
> shindy - fight
> 
> Federico García Lorca - "Untitled (To find a kiss of yours) - trans. Sarah Arvio - exerpt  
> "To find a kiss of yours  
> what would I give  
> A kiss that strayed from your lips  
> dead to love  
> My lips taste  
> the dirt of shadows"


	7. A Place to Fall Apart

A rifle shot cracked open the still, quiet morning, startling Geralt and Junquillo awake. Junquillo, cuddled against Geralt's chest, was thrown to the ground as Geralt leapt up, reaching for his silver pistol.

Heart pounding, Junquillo's head whipped around, looking for their attackers. 

Geralt's shoulders relaxed. "No one near. Rifle shots carry damn near two miles, 'Quillo. Don't worry." 

" _¡Pinche verga de diablo!_ " Junquillo gasped, hand on his heaving chest. "That almost scared the soul right out of my body." 

"It's alright, _querido_ , com'ere." Geralt pulled him into a tight, one-armed hug, keeping his pistol pointed straight at the ground with the other. 

" _¿que esta pasando?_ Rustlers?" Junquillo pressed his face into Geralt's neck, his heartbeat slowing.

"Can't be sure. Stay here with the horses - I need a closer look." Geralt bent his head for a quick press of his lips to Junquillo's. 

"Wait!" Junquillo whispered urgently. "It's too dangerous. Let's go back and get Roche and Ves." 

Geralt smiled a crooked smile. "Don't you worry none, darlin'. I'll be back in two shakes." With a quick shimmy he pulled on his boots and was striding across the plain, leaving Junquillo opening and closing his mouth in consternation. 

"Roach! Do you see how he treats me?!" He grumbled indignantly at the horse, who blinked serenely.

\---

Though the shot had echoed around the rock formations and down the valley, Geralt thought he had an idea of the direction it came from. He stalked through the high grass, crouched slightly, the cool metal of the pistol warming in his hand. Soon he heard voices through a copse of trees. He dropped to the ground and climbed up a short rise, giving him a perfect vantage point on the hunting camp. Three men stood around the entrance to a rough shack, smoking cigarettes and grimacing into the cool morning air. One of the men had a rifle precariously tucked under his arm and a rabbit dangling from its ears in his hand. 

That explains the shot, Geralt thought to himself. He was about to creep back down the rise when he noticed something behind the hunters. Two grey wolf pelts were stretched out on a rack, their drab fur rustling in the wind. 

"Hm." He mumbled to himself. 

\---

Junquillo had packed and repacked their saddlebags multiple times and was nervously braiding his pinto's mane. By the time Geralt slunk back up to their camp, the old mare looked fit for a parade. 

"Geralt!" Junquillo whispered urgently. "What did you see??"

"Huntin' cabin. Three men, maybe more." Geralt holstered his pistol, glancing back over his shoulder. "They're killin' wolves." 

The younger man's brow furrowed. "Then... we should thank them! They've done our job for us." He looked up at Geralt questioningly. 

"Only two dead'uns that I saw. More'n that to a pack." Geralt placed a calming hand on Roach's neck. "Mayhaps they're the ones pushing the pack down the plateau."

Junquillo sighed deeply, covering his face with his hand. "What can we do, then? Surely you don't want to fight them?"

"Hush, darlin'. Ain't runnin' into a shootout just yet." Geralt pulled him close, pressing their bodies together and bringing a hand to cup the back of his head. Junquillo relaxed into the touch, finally loosening some of the tension of their rude awakening. He bent his head into Geralt's neck, which pushed his hat off and sent it tumbling to the grass. Junquillo wrapped his arms around Geralt's waist and squeezed him in.

"You smell like horse." He whispered into Geralt's neck, pushing his shirt up gently to brush his fingers against the scarred belly.

Geralt hummed, smiling, and pulled his shirt over his head, knocking his hat to the ground and exposing pale skin to the warming sunlight. Junquillo bent to lick and suck on one pink nipple, squeezing Geralt's waist in his calloused hands. Geralt's hand on the back of his neck pressed testingly down, urging Junquillo to his knees. 

Obligingly, he sunk down, trailing his fingers along Geralt's belly and pressing into the soft grey hairs. Geralt held up his gun holster so Junquillo could undo his belt and fly, tugging his pants down around his hips and releasing his flushed, pink cock. Junquillo's eyes closed and his wet tongue caressed the thick, veiny underside of Geralt's cock. 

"Unh. 'Quillo." Geralt dug his fingers into Junquillo's short, soft brown hair, trying to keep his hips from bucking forward. 

Soft red lips closed around the head and Geralt let out a shaky breath. Junquillo sunk down along Geralt's length, the wet heat making his balls draw up and precome leak onto Junquillo's tongue.

Junquillo let out a quiet gag as Geralt's cock hit the back of his throat. Pulling back, he turned his tear-stained eyes up to Geralt's awed expression. 

"You feel so good," Geralt growled, his hand coming up to meet Junquillo's that slid up his belly. 

Junquillo bobbed back down on his leaking cock, the puff of his breath tickling Geralt's grey curls. Slickness leaked out from the corners of his mouth, coating the burning hard length. Junquillo swallowed down, his Adam's apple bobbing, cheeks hollowing. His tongue circled the head and rubbed the slit, making Geralt above him pant and moan and tense his thighs with anticipation. 

As Junquillo bobbed down again, Geralt mindlessly bucked into his mouth, fully burying himself into the soft, tight heat. The veins along his shaft popped out thick and blue against pink skin. A line of sweat started to drip its way slowly down the side of his flushed face.

Sucking on Geralt's cock like it was Zoltan's rock candy, Junquillo brought his hands up to grasp and knead at Geralt's thighs and bum through the thick canvas of his trousers, pushing him down his throat. He felt the older man straining to hold back, and flicked his brown eyes up to meet Geralt's hazel ones. He could feel his cock growing impossibly harder and thicker in his mouth, and from the open-mouthed, wrecked expression on Geralt's face, he knew he was close.

"Oh. _Julian_... I'm..." Geralt tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, letting Junquillo's real name slip out. The hand on the back of his head clenched down, pressing him into Geralt's musky body.

Junquillo moaned, sending vibrations up Geralt's cock as he swallowed him down. His breath came in quick huffs through his nose and he closed his eyes.

With a ragged moan, Geralt came on Junquillo's tongue, bending over as if in pain. Junquillo slowed his pace, swallowing down and gently licking up the underside of Geralt's cock, savoring the taste.

The hand on the back of his head loosened its grip, softly petting Junquillo's hair. Geralt bent to kiss the top of the younger man's head as he pulled up his pants. 

With a groan and a pop, Junquillo straightened his knees and stood, brushing the dirt off his chaps.

"What do we have here?" A strange, deep voice snapped the couple from the tender moment.

"Fuck." Geralt cursed under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "A Place to Fall Apart" by Merle Haggard
> 
> pinche verga de diablo- fucking devil cock  
> querido- darling  
> que esta pasando - what's going on  
> 


	8. The Beast In Me

"No, no, don't bother gettin' up, sweetheart." The poacher turned his dark eyes to Junquillo, still on his knees. 

"Easy, there stranger." Geralt's voice was rough and shaky as he rapidly buttoned up his trousers. 

"Shut the fuck up, _stranger_. I don't need nothin' from you but your horse and..." He eyed Geralt, chapped lips screwed up in a cruel grin "I'll take them boots."

"We don't want trouble. Jus' let us be on our way." Geralt drew his elbow back, slowly, his eyes trained on the poacher. 

The poacher kept his hungry eyes on Junquillo, who was holding his breath, trying to keep tears from falling from his watery eyes. With a jerk, his hand traveled to the diamond grip of the pistol on his hip.

POP!

Black eyes shot wide. The poacher clutched his chest and stumbled back, terror etched across his face. 

Junquillo slapped his hands over his ears and curled up on the ground as the blast ricocheted across the rocky plain. 

Geralt lowered the gun, naked chest heaving with gulping breaths. He took a few steps over to the man and toed him with his boot, confirming the accuracy of his shot. The poacher was dead. His eyes scanned the plateau, looking for the other two hunters. 

Seeing Junquillo on the ground, he strode rapidly back to where he lay, holstering his pistol. 

"Quillo, are you all right? Talk to me" Geralt gripped his shoulder and pulled him upright, revealing a dusty face streaked with tear tracks.

" _Estoy bien._ " Junquillo whispered through clenched teeth. " _Qu-.... su-_ " He stuttered out, starting to shake.

"You take the horses 'n' cut a path back. I'll meet you." Geralt's head whipped around, eyes searching for trouble. Seeing none, he pulled a wadded-up bandana from his shirt pocket and tenderly wiped Junquillo's cheek. "You're all right." He said under his breath, almost to himself. "You're all right." 

" _Pero, y-_ " Junquillo found his hat on the ground and gripped the brim. 

Geralt stood, interrupting the younger man, "I'll meet you." He retrieved his rifle from Roach's saddle bag and handed Junquillo her lead. "Go on." 

With a guilty, longing glance, Junquillo lead both horses at a brisk walk toward the trail. Geralt watched as he wiped his nose with his sleeve, feeling his heart clench. 

Quickly, he pulled on his rough cotton shirt and turned to loading his rifle. The click as he cocked it echoed in the stillness. Already, a vulture was circling above, eyeing the corpse as its blood soaked into the dirt. 

Geralt found a shallow depression near a cluster of jagged yucca plants and gingerly dropped to his belly. Taking a deep breath, he looked down the sight of his rifle and waited. 

It wasn't long before he could make out the shapes of two men running across the plateau. He watched them down his sights as they hurried towards him. Soon he could make out that one carried a pistol on his hip, and one ran with a shotgun clutched in both hands. Their quiet voices got louder, bringing hoarse shouts to his ears. 

"Where's Conrad?" 

"That old devil gon' bite the ground when I find 'im!" 

"This damnable flusteration!" 

"Siegfried! Over here!" 

Geralt, still hidden, watched the pair as they discovered the body of their friend. A ragged shout came from the throat of the man with the shotgun. He swung around, searching for the murderer.

"Where are you, motherfucker?! I'll send you to the bone orchard you cursed sumbitch!" 

"Rick, look at these here horse tracks. They went this way!" 

The two men scrambled to follow the tracks Junquillo and the horses had made. 

BAM! click.  
BAM! 

The pair dropped to the ground, dissapearing under the tall grass. Geralt rose to his feet with a groan and a sigh, stretching out his stiff knees. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and pulled down the brim of his hat. His fingers found the medallion of Saint Francis around his neck and his thumb rubbed the shiny metal absentmindedly. 

Three vultures were now circling the plain. The cowboy turned and headed toward the trail. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'The Beast In Me' by Johnny Cash
> 
> estoy bien - I'm fine  
> pero - but
> 
> bite the ground - die  
> bone orchard - cemetery


	9. La Negra Noche

Glancing at the position of the sun, Geralt figured Junquillo had about an hour head start on him. His weary sigh was swallowed up by a hot, dry west wind. Geralt trudged down the trail, taking sips from his hip flask and trying to avoid thinking about the events of that morning. 

"Devil take them wolves. Never should've got mixed up in this confounded mess." The last few warm drops of whiskey trickled out of the flask down his parched throat. Quietly, tentatively, a song reached his ears. 

_"La negra noche tendió su manto  
Surgió la niebla, murió la luz  
Y en las tinieblas de mi alma triste  
Como una sombra llegaste tú"_

Geralt picked up his pace to a loping run. Down the shallow rise, he could see the rumps of the horses bobbing over the tall grass. 

"Ey! Junquillo! Hol' up!" 

"Geralt?!" He heard a relieved voice call out. Junquillo dropped the horses leads and sprinted toward the grey-haired cowboy, slamming into him and wrapping him up in a tight hug. 

"Oof!" The air was forced out of Geralt's lungs as Junquillo's chest pressed tight to his. "Easy there. No need for all that."

"What in the hell do you mean, _pendejo_?! I heard shots! What happened?" 

Geralt's face tightened in a dark grimace. He turned away from Junquillo's upturned, open, concerned face. "Took care of it," he muttered through clenched teeth. 

Sensing the pain etched across his lover's scowl, Junquillo pulled away, swallowing down his questions. Giving Geralt's tense shoulder a squeeze, he suggested sunnily, "well let's try to catch up to Roche. I'm sure Zoltan will have a cup of hot coffee waiting for us." 

Geralt's face relaxed a little as he met Junqillo's gaze. "Yep. Let's get out of here."

The pair rode on in silence. The high, hot sun began to slip below the red horizon. They rode on in the dusky light, orange fading into purple. A peaceful silence was broken only by the soft snuffling of the horses or the quiet humming of Junquillo. Geralt tried to let his mind wander away from the events of that morning, but his thoughts constantly circled around in a spiral of guilt - the crack of the rifle shot, the growing pool of blood, the surprise on the mens' faces. 

"There! _¡Mira!_ Junquillo pointed, kicking his horse into a canter. 

Geralt looked up from where his fingers were worrying the frayed edge of Roach's leather reins. There ahead of them were the unmistakeable red and white bodies of longhorn cattle. A few stragglers trailed behind the large mass of the herd.

"You go on 'head and holler at Roche. I'll hang back here." Geralt shouted up to Junquillo, who turned back to look at him with a puzzled expression.

" _Cierto, querido... una momenta._ " Junquillo sped forward, leaning over the neck of his horse. Geralt watched as he shrank into the distance, tried to not feel the yawning chasm of loneliness open up in his chest. 

Softly, Geralt whispered to his horse, patting her neck. "Hell, Roach, I'm at sea here. Should've I never gone up that butte? They might'a been a hard case, an' killin' wolves, but I reckon I should've left it well 'nuff alone." Geralt took a long draught from the bottle of whiskey he fished out of the saddlebag. "Damnable bosh." He leaned back in the saddle, squinting up at the few bright stars that were starting to appear in the darkening sky. 

A breathy bark brought his attention rapidly back down to earth, and his hand up to the grip of his pistol.

It was the white wolf, her huge paws pressed into the dusty soil, a light breeze ruffling her pale grey coat. For a second, her dark eyes met Geralt's light ones, and for a moment, he thought he could see some kinship there, some understanding. As quickly as she appeared, she turned and bounded off into the grass.

"Huh." Geralt rested his bottle of whiskey on the saddle pommel and watched her tail dissappear in the prairie grass. 

Roach pranced sideways, spooked by the huge wolf, bobbing her head. 

"Whoa, there. Easy girl." Geralt patted her muscular neck. 

"Geralt!" Junquillo, steering his horse with his knees, held out two cups of coffee, "Take one of these! I've burned the hell out of my hands for you! 

Geralt chuckled and hopped down to the ground, stowing his whiskey away. He reached up to take a hot mug from Junquillo and took a grateful sip of the dark brew. 

" _Gracias, chico_ " Geralt gave Junquillo his hand to help him down and didn't let go once the smaller man was on the ground. They stood there, drinking their coffee, holding hands in the gathering dark, for several moments. 

Coffee drunk, the pair set to making camp. Junquillo laid out his bedroll and set to polishing his guitar with a tiny glass bottle of linseed oil and his bandana. Geralt made a fire, watered and unsaddled the horses, and kicked off his boots, laying down next to Junquillo. With a quick tuning, the little vaquero strummed and picked a few soft chords. He cleared his throat, tipped his hat back on his head, and sang,

" _Ya veo que asoma tras la ventana  
Tu rostro de ángel encantador  
Siento la dicha dentro de mi alma  
Ya no hay tinieblas, ya no hay tinieblas  
Ya salió el sol_"

As the stanza ended, Junquillo heard Geralt's breath hitch. Looking down at him, he saw tears streaming down the older man's face, clumping in his eyelashes. 

" _Geralt. ¿Que occure bebe?_ " Junquillo laid a gentle hand on his chest.

"I killed 'em. I ain't wanted to kill nobody. Jus' wanted to get away from Roche for a day or two." 

Junquillo stayed silent, watching the pain spasm across his lover's face. He had touched up against this violent world he didn't understand. The moment of terror, the cruel logic of 'him or me,' the split-second decision that saved his life. This was all part of Geralt's life, not his. Junquillo felt for a moment that he had intruded somewhere he didn't belong. But he pushed down that feeling and bent to brush his lips against Geralt's forehead. 

" _Lo siento, querido._ You did what you had to." He whispered into Geralt's grey hair. 

"I'm tired o' this life." Geralt wept. "Thought it would be different comin' to work fer Yen. Sometimes I feel like the devil hisself is followin' me." 

"My darling," Junquillo wrapped Geralt in his arms. "Come home with me. You can work on the rancho and we can build a little house. My mother has been writing me to come back to Zacatecas since my father died." 

Geralt blew his nose loudly into his faded bandana. "I don't know, 'Quillo, what about..." 

"About what, Geralt? Yennefer?" Junquillo sat up and kicked off his boots angrily. 

"No, 'Quillo, I meant -" 

"Like hell you did! _¡Decídete!_ " 

"Fine, then." 

"Fine?" The flush drained from Junquillo's cheeks, his angry expression melting into surprise. 

"Let's go to Zacatecas." Geralt wiped his eyes and stared up at the sky. 

" _¿De verdad?_ " 

"Junquillo, when I'm with you... I'm happy." Geralt awkwardly mumbled, but the look of yearning in his eyes made Junquillo's heart clench. 

" _Cariño._ " Junquillo knelt down next to the grey-haired cowboy and held his head in his hands, the scratchy stubble tickling his palms. Leaning in, he pressed their lips together with a fierce tenderness, tasting the saltiness of his tears. 

Geralt's strong arms came up to encircle Junquillo's waist. He deepened the kiss with desperate lust, pressing his body into Junquillo's, pulling the smaller man into his lap. 

Far away, a wolf howled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La Negra Noche - Pedro Infante
> 
> The black night spread its cloak  
> The mist arose, the light died  
> And in the darkness of my sad soul  
> Like a shadow you arrived
> 
> I see it peeking out the window  
> Your lovely angel face  
> I feel the happiness inside my soul  
> There is no more darkness, there is no more darkness  
> The sun has risen
> 
> pendejo - asshole  
> mira - look  
> cierto, querido.. una momenta - sure babe one sec  
> que occure bebe - what's wrong honey  
> decidete - make up your mind  
> de verdad? - for real?
> 
> bosh - bullshit  
> hard case - deadbeat


End file.
